


Elegance and Finesse

by the_technicolor_whiscash



Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gunshots, Kissing, basically a thinly veiled self insert actually, i wrote this so I could try to express how I feel about James bond, sexual overtones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9853466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_technicolor_whiscash/pseuds/the_technicolor_whiscash
Summary: Daisy Freeborn is an American CIA agent who meets the illusive James Bond during a game of baccarat. Her life is thrown through a loop when she finally gets to work a case with him a few months later.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I really had Pierce Brosnan's Bond in mind when I wrote this but really it could work with any of them it's just generic James Bond

As I sat down at the baccarat table, I couldn't help but notice the man in front of me. His finely tailored suit perfectly complemented his handsome face. The man was attractive, and he knew it. The way he carried himself showed that he was always ready for a woman to throw herself at his feet. As beautiful as he was, I wasn't here to flirt. I was here to win some money.   
And I knew he liked me from the moment he saw me. His eyes travelled from my perfectly styled hair all the way down to my stylish gold and black party dress, and back up to my grey-blue eyes. Maybe after this game he'd ask me for a drink. Hopefully he would.   
Baccarat seems like a game of chance, but it does take some skill to be good at it. And I was good. Unfortunately, the handsome man also was excellent at it. His poker face (baccarat face?) showed confidence, even when he didn't have a good hand. Losing to me didn't seem to faze him. He was hard to match, but I managed to keep up with him.   
Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me, and the crowd gasped. The handsome man stood up and pulled a small gun out of his coat and aimed it at someone behind me. I whipped around and came face to face with someone holding a gun to my head.   
“Drop the gun.” The handsome man said in a smooth, gorgeous British accent. His face remained cool and collected. “Or I'll blow your head off.”  
The man holding the gun to my head sneered. “Not a chance, pretty boy. This bitch deserves what she's going to get after what she did to me in Belize.”   
My heart skipped a beat. I remembered this guy. Built a bunch of car bombs, then flew down to South America so he wouldn't have to face the rap. I was on his case. I managed to get a slug into his leg, but his trail disappeared before I could catch him. Son of a bitch could've made my career.   
Oh. That's right. You'll probably want a little background info. Name’s Special Agent Daisy Freeborn. CIA. I'm the best damn agent they've got. Lot of people don't take me seriously, since I'm a woman. But I try not to let that deter me. Besides, I'm a lot better with a gun than most of the idiots who catcall me are.  
Anyway, this asshole had a gun to my head, and the handsome Brit I was playing baccarat against had a gun to that guy. Makes sense. Luckily, I had a truck up my sleeve. And that trick was a gun I had in my handbag.   
While the asshole was distracted with the handsome guy, I slid my hand into my purse and pulled out my gun. In a split second, I pressed the trigger, and the guy flew backwards, clutching at the new hole in his chest. He gave me one last look and fell to the ground, dead.   
I stood up and turned towards the handsome man, who had put his gun away. “Well, I suppose that ruins our game of baccarat.”  
The man adjusted his bow tie. “Nonsense. I believe it was your turn to be the banker?”

I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing. It was my boss. I knew he wanted me back at base, but I was a little busy. I was laying in bed beside the handsome man from the baccarat game the night before. I hadn’t managed to snag his name, only that he was a British MI6 agent and that he was very good in bed.   
“Who was that?” The handsome man asked from the other side of the bed.   
I ran my hand down his formidable chest and kissed him on his jaw. “My boss. Wants me back at the office.”  
He kissed my cheek, then my neck, then my collarbone. “Stay for a bit. I’m sure your boss won't mind waiting.”  
I kissed him on his lips, the kind of long, lustful kiss I had learned to enjoy from my many one-night stands. “Fine, but only for a little while.” I laid my head on his muscular chest and sighed. Then, a thought occurred to me. “Wait a second. I don't even know your name.”   
He stroked my hair, and I could feel my heartbeat quicken. “Bond. James Bond.”   
I smiled and ran my hand further down his stomach, causing him to make a slight moan. “Well James, it's a pleasure to meet you. I’m Daisy Freeborn.”   
“Nice to meet you too, Daisy.” He said in a breathy, sexual voice. “Now, let’s get back to work…”

A few months later, my boss called me into his office. Said he had a new assignment for me, and I was to have a partner on the case. A British MI6 agent. I wouldn't know who it was until I landed. Said I'd know him when I'd see him. Great. Thanks boss. Not vague at all.   
The assignment was in a remote village on an island I had never heard of. The town had one small airport, and lived off of the local fishing industry. Apparently a drug lord dabbling in human trafficking had decided to make this town his base. Unfortunately, I could see why. Sleepy little town filled with overworked people who didn't think to look twice at a man exporting hundreds of thousands of dollars in heroin.   
My boss was right when he said I'd know my contact. Who could it have been but the one and only James Bond. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and I walked towards him, dragging my small suitcase behind me.   
“Good morning, James.” I smiled at his perfectly styled hair. This man looked good wherever he went, and he knew it.   
“Daisy.” James said, smiling back. His sultry British accent reminded me of the night we had spent together months ago. “You’re looking lovely.”  
“When I heard I'd be working with an MI6 agent, I had no idea it would be you.” I said, trying not to let him know how much I wanted to make out with him. I had to keep myself together for the sake of the case. But he was hot. He was really hot. And I wanted to make out with him on his face.   
“Well, I am the best they've got.” James replied. Of course he was the best. He was perfect at everything. Hair, sex, investigating. There was nothing this man couldn't do.   
We walked out of the airport and into an awaiting taxi. There were literally three taxis in this town. Can you imagine that? I was used to cities where you couldn't go five feet without running into a taxi.   
The taxi dropped us off at a hotel which, from what I had read, was the highest-rated hotel on the island. It looked about the size of your average motel, with an underpaid, underenthusiastic man running the front desk. He begrudgingly gave us our room keys, and James and I parted ways to explore our respective rooms.   
Mine was about what you'd expect from a hotel on a South American island with a population smaller than most shopping malls in America. A bed, a table, a chair. I was pleasantly surprised when I saw that the minifridge was stocked with beer, and a bottle of cheap scotch sat atop it. There was the deepest tv ever made atop a small dresser, and a closet with a few hangers. Luckily I was used to packing for trips like this, so I didn't bring any unnecessary clothing. Just what was practical for being on an island.   
Satisfied that my exploration of my room was over, I decided to see how James’s was. I locked the door behind me and whistled as I walked along the short hallway to his room. I knocked, and I heard James from the other side of the door telling me to come in.   
I stepped in and saw that James’s room wasn't much different than mine. His room looked a little bigger somehow, but otherwise mirrored the setup. James was lying on his bed, flicking through the few channels on the tv. Even in this slightly grungy motel, he managed to look attractive. Of course he did.   
“So, how do we want to approach this case? We can't just go in guns-a-blazing, as much as I’d like to.” I said, attempting to break the ice.   
“Why not?” James asked, his eyes not leaving the tv.   
Seriously? Was he really asking why not? I couldn't tell whether or not he was messing with me. It's always hard to tell with the British. “Because we don't want to be gunned down immediately. I like being alive, if you didn't notice.”   
James’s eyes flickered to me and then back to the tv. “Fair point.”   
I was beginning to get irritated with his disconcern for the case. “I think we should try to find the easiest way to infiltrate from a distance, and then take them down from the inside.”   
James nodded. “Good idea.”   
I frowned. “What, no input? Are you just going to sit there, more focused on what's on television than your job?”   
Finally, James gave me a long, hard look. “You don't think I take you seriously, do you? Probably because we had sex a few months ago. That's it, isn’t it?”   
I pulled a chair up beside the bed and sat down. “Well, yes, and your whole laid-back attitude about this whole thing just doesn't make sense. This is your job. People's lives depend on us getting this done right, and your cocky attitude isn't helping anyone.”  
James sat up and slid to the end of the bed so we were sitting face to face. “Miss Freeborn, how do you think I've stayed alive this long? I might seem laid back, but I am always on my guard. In fact, the only reason why I have the television on is so that the sound drowns out our talking. There's a bug somewhere in this room. I did a sweep.” His voice began to get quieter and quieter. “I recognize the importance of my job. No one understands that better than I do. People have died because of me. I try to stop it, but sometimes you can't save everyone.”   
It was then that I realized that this man, with his cocky, overconfident exterior, was actually extremely damaged. His hard outer shell cracked, and I could see the sadness inside of him. “Oh, James, I’m sorry. I didn't know.”   
Leaning towards me, James whispered into my ear. “We have to find the bug.”  
As quietly as we could, we searched the room, attempting to find the bug. I finally found it lodged inside one of the buttons on the phone, an ancient-looking landline.   
James reached into his suitcase and pulled out his gun, except this time it had a silencer on it. He stood back and shot the phone, the silencer greatly reducing the sound of the gunshot.   
“Good. I'm glad we got that taken care of.” James said, detaching his silencer from his gun.   
I didn't quite know what to say. He had clearly just revealed something extremely personal to me, and probably didn't want me to mention it again. “So… uh… does this drug lord have any weaknesses we can exploit?”  
James adjusted his collar. I could tell that was probably a nervous tick of his. It revealed more about him than he'd probably want. “He’s a fan of card games. Probably can't find a lot of people to play against on this island, so I figure it'll give us a good chance of getting close to him and taking him out.”  
“Sounds easy enough.” I said, nodding. “Who’s going to play him? We’re both excellent card players.”  
“You. Your femininity will hopefully distract him, and we can use that to our advantage.”   
“Alright. And what part will you play in this?”   
James sat down on the bed and ran a hand through his perfect hair. “I'll be your bodyguard, a gun you hired for protection. I'll wait in the background for the right moment, and then I'll shoot him.”  
I frowned. “How come you get to shoot him, and I'm only there to look pretty?”   
James sighed. “Fine. You want me to be the beautiful card player, and you to be the armed bodyguard?”   
Truthfully, I had no problem with dressing up nicely and playing a game of cards. But I was managing to play him like a fiddle. It would be funny to see him slightly out of his comfort zone. Then again, I'm pretty sure everything is his comfort zone, being the mr perfect that he is. “Yes. I think that's a good idea.”   
“Alright. I can work with that. I'll contact MI6 and have them set something up.” James said. “But you'd better have something to wear that makes you look like a bodyguard.”  
I smiled. “Honey, I’m CIA. Of course I do.”

The next day, I met James outside of his hotel room. I was wearing my best “bodyguard” outfit, which consisted of basically just wearing black pants and a black leather jacket, with a matching gun holster, boots that gave me another inch in height, and my hair tied back so it wouldn't get in my way. I looked like I meant business. I also had a bulletproof vest on under my jacket, just in case things got dicey, and a knife strapped inside of my boot.   
When James came out of his hotel room, I almost laughed, before I realized how stunning he looked. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, not unlike the one he had worn that night we had sex, and a fancy watch that probably had some sort of hi-fi spy gear in it. His shoes looked extremely expensive, and he wore an expression that showed that he knew how good he looked.   
After a moment, I realized I was staring, so I cleared my throat and said, “Mr. Bond. You're looking nice.”  
James looked me up and down. “You're looking like a bodyguard. Is that a bulletproof vest under your jacket?”  
I raised an eyebrow. “Yes, it is. And is that a shoulder holster I see under yours?”   
He gave a cocky smile. “Right you are.” He held out his arm. “Shall we away?”  
I crossed my arms. “I’m your bodyguard. I should be escorting you.”   
“Right again, Miss Freeborn.” I could tell James was just a little jealous that I was the bodyguard and he the beautiful card player. And I put an emphasis on beautiful. Because this man was stunning. 

Our taxi driver was reluctant to drive us to the house of the drug lord, but after James gave him a bunch of money, I think the man would've been willing to drive us straight into the ocean.   
The drug lord lived in a massive mansion, which was probably larger than the entirety of the village before us. It was built in a Spanish sort of style, with these hideous gargoyles that seemed moderately out of place. A bunch of guards stood outside, armed with large machine guns and dressed in all black. So, not unlike how I was dressed at the moment. Except they were much more heavily armed, and I was beginning to feel my confidence waver. But I couldn't afford to let my own fear compromise this mission.   
I knocked on the door, and a finely dressed doorman answered. He spoke in perfect English, with a distinctive accent. “Good morning. Are you Mr. Bond?”   
James adjusted his bow tie. “Yes. And this is my bodyguard, Miss Freeborn.”  
The doorman bowed. “It is a pleasure, Mr. Bond. Please, come with me.”  
We followed the doorman through the immense house. It was huge inside, with rooms filled with art once thought lost to the ages. We paused in one room before a set of large wooden doors, and I noticed a painting off to the side, above a delicately carved mantel.   
“Is… is that…?” I tugged on James’s sleeve and pointed at it.   
James smiled. “The Rembrandt stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.”  
“How?” I stuttered. “How'd it end up here?”   
“The world of black market art is far deeper than it appears.” James said, checking his watch. Suddenly, the doors in front of us opened. “Right on time.”  
We walked in and came upon a distinctly Mexican man, sitting on one side of a card table. Beside the man sat someone dressed not unlike the doorman, who I assumed would be the referee of sorts in the game.   
“Mr. Bond! It's a pleasure to meet you.” The man smiled and shook James’s hand. “I don’t often get a chance to play against a player as good as myself, especially not on this island!”   
“The pleasure’s all mine.” James said, taking a seat across from him. “You don't mind that I brought my bodyguard? I just like that extra level of protection.”  
The man waved his hand. “I understand completely. In fact, the lovely lady can play too, if she wants!”   
I raised an eyebrow at James, who gave a slight nod. “Sure, why not.” I said, sliding into a chair. 

After about three hours, I had racked up quite a lot of money. More than James and the drug lord combined. Sure, I could've played dumb, could've made it so James could win, but I was having fun. And besides, I do like showing off. Winning is fun. And I am very good at it.   
After some time, I could tell the drug lord was getting irritated. I had taken a good portion of his money, and I wasn't even the one he was supposed to play. James wasn't doing too badly, still better than the drug lord. Clearly the drug lord wasn't as good as baccarat as he claimed to be.   
I won again, and the man slammed his fist into the table, causing me to jump.   
“Dammit!” He screamed. “I wasn't supposed to lose to the BODYGUARD!”  
In one swift motion, I stood up and pulled my gun out, aiming it directly at the drug lord’s face. Beside me, James pulled out his gun, though he stayed sitting. The man sitting beside the drug lord tried to stand up, but fell backwards in his chair onto the floor.   
“Wait! Please!” The drug lord said, holding his hands up. “I can give you money! Cars! Anything!”  
I kept my pistol trained on his head. “Shut up, dude.”   
I squeezed the trigger, and the sound of a gunshot rang through the house as the drug lord flew backwards, dead.   
James holstered his gun and stood up. “Nice shot.”  
I glanced around the room. “Now, how do we get out of here with no one noticing?”  
“I think I have an idea.” James said. He walked over to a wall and pulled on a sconce, causing part of the wall to retreat, revealing a secret passage.   
I walked over and looked down the passage. I was secretly giddy. Secret passages are so cool. “Nice.”  
We proceeded down the passage. A ways down, the entrance closed behind us. That was ok, since we hopefully wouldn't have to go back the way we came. Hopefully. 

After what felt like hours of walking through the dark passage, we came to a dead end. James pressed around on the walls, but there didn't seem to be any switches.   
I leaned up against the wall beside him, trying to seem cool and nonchalant. “So, uh, how are we going to get out of here?”  
He tried hitting a couple of other things, but to no avail. Finally, he sighed and leaned against the wall across from me. “I don't know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I really don't know.”  
I could tell he was in despair. People he could handle. People you can shoot. You can't shoot a wall made of stone, as much as you might want to.   
I leaned my head against the wall, trying to think. Then, something occurred to me. “Wait a second. Do you have any gadgets that MI6 gave you?”  
James’s eyes widened, and I could see the gears working in his head. Then, he rolled his sleeve up and took his watch off. “Q designed this watch to explode if you hit the button three times. How did I not think of this before?”  
I raised an eyebrow. “I'd ask who Q is, but there's some more pressing matters at hand. So, you just press it three times and it blows up?”  
James stuck one end of the watch to the stone wall so it could stay there without having to hold it. “That's right. There's a five second delay, and then it blows.”   
“And will it be strong enough to blow a hole in the wall?” I was worried that we were just going to get ourselves stuck in here further, but James seemed confident.   
“It will be. Q knows what he's doing.” James took a deep breath. “Ok. Now, when I press the button, we run as hard as we can back down the passage. Ready?”  
I nodded. “Ready.”  
I grabbed his hand, and he pressed the button. We ran down the passage, and seconds seemed to last forever as I waited to hear the blow.   
Suddenly, the explosion happened, and I was thrown to the ground. My head collided with the hard stone, and I blacked out.   
When I came to, I saw James leaning over me, his hand caressing my cheek. We must've moved, since we were now somewhere out in the open, blue sky above us.   
“Hello there.” James said, grinning.   
I groaned and sat up. My head felt like it was filled with a weird mixture of lead and cotton. “Hi. How long was I out?”  
James shrugged. “I'm not sure. My watch blew up, so I can't check.”  
I smiled slightly. “Right. That happened.” I looked around. We were in a sort of a field, with lots of wildflowers and grasses. “Where are we?”  
“Somewhere in the woods. After the explosion, I picked you up and ran into the woods. This was the first clearing I came to.” He laid down against the grass and stared at the sky. “Pretty, isn’t it?”  
I laid back down beside him and nestled my head in the crook of his neck. He didn't seem to mind, so I didn't move. “It is. Nice change of pace.”  
His hand found mine, and for a while, we just laid there and looked at the sky in silence. 

The next day, I woke up next to James in bed. Again. And really, he was excellent in bed. I don't think I can stress that enough. That man absolutely knows how to pleasure a woman. I assume he's had a lot of practice, given his face.   
When he noticed I was awake, James kissed me on my forehead. “Good morning, Daisy.”  
I smiled and kissed him on the lips. “Morning, James.”  
He brushed a lock of hair out of my face. I can only wonder how my bedhead looked, and it definitely wasn't helped by a night of ferocious sex. “Sleep well?”  
“Not bad.” I said, rubbing a hand down his muscular chest. “You?”  
“Pretty well, considering.” He pressed his forehead to mine, and I closed my eyes. “I had forgotten how good you are in bed.”  
I sniggered slightly. “I didn't.”  
He rubbed a hand down my back, evicting a moan from me. I bit my lip to try to keep quiet, but to no avail. This man could get any number of noises out of me if he wanted to. Suddenly, his hand stopped, and I opened my eyes. “Daisy, do you mind if I tell you something personal?”  
I looked right into his intense, beautiful eyes. “That depends.”   
Before he said anything, he kissed me on the lips. A full kiss, not just something you'd expect from a one-night stand. It was nice. Better than a lot of kisses I had received. Much to my dismay, he pulled away and again pressed his forehead against mine. “I love you, Daisy.”  
I smiled. “I love you too, James.”  
“I mean that, Daisy. Not just because we had sex.” James gave me a look almost like a sad dog. “I’m in love with you.”  
I ran a hand through his hair. “I meant it too.”   
And with that, I leaned in and kissed him again, a long, passionate kiss, that meant more than words could say.

**Author's Note:**

> Raise your hand if you wanna make out with James Bond   
> I do  
> Thats why i wrote this


End file.
